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It was all taking place in a bit of a haze. At least for Arlo. A glowing, wonderful, multi-colored one brought on by countless butterflies and the one that seemed to be leading them all. He'd marvel at all of that later, and look into what the word meant. Šíšu. But at that particular bit, it was the stranger who Arlo believed wasn't an ordinary stranger at all, who'd captured most of his attention. Him, and the fact that Vega was making eyes at him. He'd still considered giving her an elbow in the ribs, on the sly, but it wouldn't have done him any good. Besides, turned out she'd discover it soon enough. And there'd be no doubt left for him either.
He didn't want the strand of feathers and beads back. Why would he? Apparently it had fallen into exactly the hands he'd hoped and imagined it might. He'd no more ask for it back than willingly relinquish his hat. Well he would, he guessed, if it was commanded of him. Would they meet again? "If we do," he said. "Hopefully then, I'll have better stories to tell."
Maybe, it meant that all the prayers, the offerings, the devotion, they'd been heard, seen, acknowledged.
But then? The comment took him completely by surprise. Hoped who wasn't his? He didn't have time to ask, only be confounded as the Immortal grabbed hold of Vega. It was definitely too late to tell her now. And by the looks of it, from Arlo's perspective she wasn't putting up much of a fight or protesting too loudly. He frowned, but wasn't quite sure what he thought about that.
And then she too, knew who the stranger was before he was gone in much the same way he'd appeared. He looked aside at her when she spoke, and a deep frown edged its way into his expression. "What do you mean, you've never?" He didn't expect an answer. Not then anyway, but only pulled her up off the log before heading back to their camp. "Well if you've never, you didn't seem to mind all that much," he said dryly.
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